


Compulsion

by paxlux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxlux/pseuds/paxlux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world isn’t simple.  Sam is fifteen and the world isn’t simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compulsion

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this really fast; no redeeming qualities. Written for this [tumblr post](http://wnchstr.tumblr.com/post/10240869412/john-sam-this-thing-with-you-and-your-brother) as a prompt; I changed a detail. Because I can.

The world isn’t simple. Sam is fifteen and the world isn’t simple.

He’s still small and scrawny, with limbs he can’t control and his hair in his eyes and his dad keeps dragging him away from school after school after school, town after town after town.

Sam knows three things: the road, his family’s secret, and his brother.

Dean isn’t simple either. He looks like he should be, all swagger and leather and smirk, his eyes lit like fire under green water, unbelievable and impossible, Dean is his brother and Sam doesn’t know how that happened, some cosmic explosion somewhere setting off a chain reaction that after years and years made Dean his brother.

He tries not to think about it.

He tries not to think about a lot of things.

When Dad leaves, heading to Colorado, he does his usual song and dance, _take care of your brother, check the salt lines, make sure Sam is practicing_ , and Sam hides out in the bedroom of this tiny hovel they’re in, picking lint off the blanket.

When Dad leaves, Dean and Sam do what they do.

Watch crappy movies and even worse TV. Eat pizza. Read. Play poker. Do laundry. Fight over who ate the last of the Lucky Charms. Change the radio station until there’s just static. Lie about on the couch.

Then Sam climbs into his brother’s lap and kisses him; he knows how to do it now, the first time he didn’t, he was fucking scared out of his fucking mind and Dean was too, Sam could tell, Dean’s hand shaking against Sam’s belly and Sam’s brain gibbering like he was about to shoot himself.

Dean has never said no. He’s never said don’t, he’s never said Dad could find out, he’s never said we fucking can’t, he’s never said please.

He’s never said no.

Neither has Sam.

When Dad leaves, Dean and Sam do what they do and they don’t talk about it. Sam kisses Dean after he’s brushed his teeth, all minty and tingly and tasting of water. Dean crawls into the shower with Sam because it saves hot water and when he gets a hand on Sam, it’s grounding and spectacular and they both make noise, but not words. Sam sleeps in Dean’s bed, his brother holding onto him as if Sam’s about to run away again, like he did to Arizona, back before the world stopped being simple. His brother’s breath pushing his hair on his neck and his brother’s fingers up under his ribs and his brother’s leg slid between Sam’s.

As if they’re a weird Frankenstein experiment, an anatomical study gone wrong, bodies smashed together into one and Sam can’t see anything else without seeing Dean.

They don’t think about it, they don’t talk about it because they don’t need to.

They just _do_.

At one of Sam’s schools, his geometry teacher caught them behind the bleachers (‘so fucking cliché,’ Dean said; ‘you picked it, it’s not like you’re the quarterback and I’m some damn cheerleader,’ Sam said) and the teacher knew Dean was his brother, Dean’s hand in Sam’s jeans, Sam’s body pressing Dean against one of the structural posts.

The teacher said, ‘Oh fuck, what’s going on here? You get the fuck away from him right now!’ Pointing at Dean like a murderer. ‘He’s your little brother and _holy fucking shit_ , I’m calling the cops! _Get the fuck away from him!_ ’

He was screaming and it reminded Sam of a hunt a few weeks earlier, a man discovering a snake monster thing in his closet before Dad shot its head off, and then Sam was shaken out of it when Dean’s hand disappeared and he shoved Sam behind him.

Dean grabbed the teacher, smacking a hand over his mouth and Sam thought, That’s the hand you were touching me with, and then Dean was growling, ‘You shut the fuck up, Majewski, do you hear me. You don’t need to know what’s going on here.’

And the teacher’s eyes widened and Sam came to, realizing just what kind of shit they were in.

‘Mr. Majewski, it’s okay,’ he said, palms out, _calm down and listen, just believe me_. ‘It’s okay, really. He wasn’t doing anything to me. He wasn’t _forcing_ me. Let him go, Dean.’

Dean shook his head, but Sam said, ‘Let him go,’ and Dean did and the teacher drew a big breath.

‘Sam, what do you—do you _know_ —‘ and Sam cut him off, ‘Yeah.’

‘But he’s your—‘

‘Brother. Yeah, I kinda know that too,’ Sam said, snarky because his lips were swollen and he could still taste Dean and Dean was straightening his clothes where Sam had tugged at them.

‘But, Sam, it’s—‘

‘I don’t need to hear it, okay? Fuck, I know, Mr. Majewski, I’m not stupid.’

‘You and your brother—‘

And Sam knew he would never be able to explain it. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘we just _do_ , okay?’

He tugged Dean’s arm and leveled a look at his geometry teacher, the man addicted to Diet Coke and who always had yellow chalk dust on his fingers, and he thought, I am so sorry.

‘Do not call the cops,’Sam said, feeling vicious, and Mr. Majewski blinked at him in something like _fear_ and even Dean was looking at him as if he’d never seen this Sam before, this was a new Sam standing in front of him with his mouth red from Dean’s mouth, as if they were bleeding together.

They walked to the car and Sam looked back once before getting in and the teacher was still standing there, hunched as if they’d just kicked him around with heavy boots.

They put the teacher, the school and the town in their dust; Dean told Dad someone tried to steal the car so they thought it best to leave and Dad never questioned it.

When Dad leaves, Dean and Sam do what they do.

They don’t have to talk about it.

He doesn’t know how it happened or why it happened or what the fuck it means psychologically and he doesn’t really care.

The world isn’t simple. Sam is fifteen and the world isn’t simple and he’s in love with his big brother, but he’ll never say it.

Dean’s palm skitters along Sam’s naked spine, up into his hair and Sam shivers, accidentally biting his tongue.

He doesn’t know. They just do.


End file.
